


The Biker and the Wolf Cub

by Processpending



Series: The Biker and the Songbird [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biker AU, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Withcer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24898213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Processpending/pseuds/Processpending
Summary: Yennefer is all too familiar with the knowing looks she gets from nurses in emergency rooms after Istredd, her abusive boyfriend, brings her in but she never expected salvation to come in the form of a biker who can barely stand.Her only mistake is not accepting help the first time he offers.Expands on events from Chapter 10 of The Biker and the Songbird
Relationships: Istredd/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Biker and the Songbird [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801612
Comments: 17
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veritasrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritasrose/gifts).



> Hello!  
> This expands on events from Chapter 10 of The Biker and the Songbird though it is not necessary to have read that story first for this to make sense, it might just spoil Chapter 10 for you.
> 
> This first chapter does depict a scene of domestic abuse/violence and quite a bit of blood. I have marked the paragraph with the actual abuse with ~~ before and after should you need/wish to skip it.  
> The second chapter only briefly refers to the the abuse so please skip ahead to that if this first one will be triggering.

Yennefer knew the look the nurses were giving her, she saw it every morning when she looked in the mirror. The one that asked what she was thinking. Ciri squirms next to her, soft snuffles as she rubs her eyes, the corner of her security blanket still clenched in her fist, drawing her attention.

“I know baby, we’ll be home soon.” Yennefer smoothes back her silky hair, eyeing the curtain Istredd had disappeared through. She’d wanted to leave Ciri with their neighbor, well, if she had been able to think as Istredd ushered her to the car she would have wanted to. Even though she would get the same tired look, the one that asked how she could let this happen. Again. 

Ciri snuggles into her side, thumb coming up, blanket trailing and Yennefer doesn’t have it in her to take this comfort from her, not tonight.

The curtain twitches aside, Yennefer automatically tightening her arm around Ciri but it’s not the front curtain and definitely not Istredd. A man that's clearly a patient stands there, leather jacket little more than ragged strips is draped across his shoulders. Swaying where he stands, the bandages around his torso and splinted arm make Yennefer think he’s going to collapse at any moment. 

“Do you want out?” Yennefer blinks sluggishly at him, certain she’s misheard, but having refused drugs the pounding in her head steals thoughts before they can finish forming. 

Yennefer flinches at the man’s frown, pulling Ciri back she leans in front of her though she’d swear the man looks...hurt? It’s gone as soon as it’s there, his attention pulled to his own curtain being moved aside, a man with a ragged scar pulling his cheek frowning as he looks between her and the other patient. 

“We doing this?” 

Ciri didn’t appreciate Yennefer’s tight hold, squirming out of her grip she peers up at what Yennefer guessed to be a biker, big grey eyes watching.

“Do you want to leave?” Golden Eyes’gaze flicks to the curtain Istredd had disappeared through and Yennefer puts name to the fear that had been rising within her. Istredd will be back any moment and after the night he’s had this is the last thing he needs.

“I,” Yennefer means to tell him to go, but the words get lost in the pounding of her head, in the way Ciri never takes her gaze from Golden Eyes, even as she tips sideways into her mom. “Need you to go.” Yennefer glances to her own curtain, willing him to leave. 

Golden Eyes turns and Yennefer eases, but the curtain between them is left open and his companion watches with an exasperated look as though he’s advised against this too many times in the past and had it fall on deaf ears to bother trying anymore. 

Turning back, Golden Eyes offers the corner of his chart, two lines carefully printed and it’s obvious he has no intention of leaving until she does. True to her suspicion, as soon as the paper is plucked from his fingers he pulls the curtain closed between them, the grimace as the movement pulls his damaged body the last impression she has of him.

o~O~o

Days turn into weeks and with each one Istredd’s reform wanes.

“She’s going to grow up to be _just like you_.” Istredd spits the words, cutting so much deeper than he intends.

“And you won’t be there to see it.” Yennefer snaps back, fear nipping at the anger that fuels her. Istredd takes it as the threat it is, a sneer twisting his mouth that warns Yennefer she should have held her tongue and taken action but she’d spoken and that was as good as inviting action.

**~~~**

Yennefer’s first thought is of Ciri, her gaze seeking her out in the living room across the way, engrossed in her cars and dinosaurs she misses everything. Her father plucking the knife Yennefer had been using to chop vegetables for dinner from the counter, how he grabs her mother’s arm, wrenching it to pull her attention back to him before he brings the blade down, an angled gash across her arm. The next is deeper, her mother’s struggles only inviting the knife closer. 

**~~~**

Yennefer would be on the kitchen floor if Istredd wasn’t caging her in, a hand on either side of the counter, an embrace once shared by lovers as he leans closer and whispers in her ear, “ _You_ won’t be there to see it.” Familiar lips brush her forehead, a parting kiss that carries him away from her, the slam of the front door his final goodbye. 

Blood pitters on the floor at her feet, counting out each moment she lets pass, standing there, just trying to remember how to breathe, waiting for him to return, to finish what he started. Her first step nearly sends her to her knees, hand clamping on the counter as her foot slides on the bloody tile. 

Her next steps are careful, a stabling hand on the counter until she reaches the stove, yanking the yellow and white dish towel from its handle she pauses, knowing it will be ruined. Laughter bubbles, threatening to escape but she clamps it down and tears rise in its place as she clumsily wraps her arm, pulling the towel tight she presses her hand to it, knowing she needs to keep pressure.

With a glance at Ciri Yennefer confirms she’s still engrossed in her toys and takes careful steps out of the kitchen, partial footprints trailing her as she heads down the hall and into Ciri’s room, wondering with each step what the hell she’s doing. 

Yennefer’s hand hovers over Ciri’s dress, fingers stained with blood having seeped through the dishcloth. This is what she kept the note for, but now it seems absurd, she has no idea who that man was or what his offer entailed.

“Mommy?” Yennefer starts, Ciri standing in the doorway, watching her, ready to reflect whatever emotion she finds on Yennefer.

“Hey baby.” Yennefer holds out her hand, beckoning Ciri closer but it’s the wrong arm and Ciri’s eyes widen as she takes in the bloody cloth. 

“Mommy hurt.” Ciri’s voice is watery and Yennefer knows tears will soon follow.

“I’m ok. I’m gonna,” Yennefer debates driving to the hospital, saying she slipped while making dinner but she glances back to the closet, her hand having slipped when Ciri startled her left blood streaks over the dress’ pastel softness. 

Yennefer’s shaking hand hovers over the dress that holds their salvation, knowing next time it could be Ciri’s blood and not her own. The paper threatens to flutter to the floor, the numbers to be washed away by the blood dripping from her fingertips but Ciri is there.

“Want to help mommy? You carry this and we’ll go call someone to take us on an adventure.” Ciri likes having a job but she’s still nervous about Yennefer bleeding, her eyes straying back to the towel. Yennefer presses her arm into her stomach to help keep pressure as she offers her other hand to Ciri, leading her back towards the living room, having forgotten about the blood in the kitchen, the knife abandoned next to half-chopped vegetables.

Ciri starts to cry, knowing blood means hurting and it’s her mommy and she’s scared. 

“Shh, hey baby. It’s ok. I’m ok.” Yennefer kneels before Ciri, cupping her cheek she thumbs away the tears that track down, leaving a pink smear in her wake that twists her stomach. “We’re leaving.” Yennefer chokes on the words. 

Yennefer guides Ciri over to the couch, biting back the burning ache that’s starting in her arm. It takes two tries to unlock her phone, licking her thumb before she scrubs it on her jeans so the reader can recognize her thumbprint. 

“You’re being such a big help, baby girl. Do you still have that paper I gave you?” Ciri nods, paper clenched in her small hand and Yennefer tugs at it gently until Ciri releases it. 

In the silence that stretches between one ring and the next Yennefer fights to keep herself from hanging up, wondering just what the hell she’s doing.

“Hello?” Yennefer nearly drops the phone, not having heard the call connect. She knows she needs to say something but how does she explain this, how does she ask if this is the right number? If there’s some guy there who gives out his phone number to women in the emergency room?

“I’m looking for the white wolf? I want,” Having only ever admitted the words to herself in the dark of night they stick in her throat, an admittance that can never be revoked, but Ciri presses herself into her side. “We need out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any doubts Geralt had about this man being a monster are laid to rest at these words, no man could look upon their child’s mother, upon their child, and do what he had done. No man could, but monsters did.

Geralt knows he should have waited for at least Eskel to arrive. There’s that moment of uncertainty before the door opens when it won’t be the one who wants to leave but the one who wants them to stay that answers; but minutes can make all the difference. 

Geralt isn’t prepared for the sight that greets him, the woman from the emergency room, daughter in her arms, smeared with blood. The relief on her face at the sight of him is obvious, her hold on her daughter easing. 

The little girl doesn’t seem impressed by his presence, arms still tightly wrapped around her mom, she continues to cry, little body shaking with the force of her sobs, whimpers of, “ _Mommy_ ” blowing the woman’s dark hair.

“What do you need?” Geralt winces, his tone sharper than he intends and he wishes not for the first time Eskel were there, he was better at his part. 

“My purse. Her blankie.” She nods to herself, a bloody hand reaching out to steady herself as she works her way through the living room. Geralt wants to offer to help, to take her daughter before she drops her, but he has a feeling she’s the only thing that’s kept this woman moving. 

The purse is slid off the table and Geralt thinks the weight of it will tip her over, but the woman shoulders it with a grim set to her mouth, the sodden towel slipping and with no free hand to keep it in place it drops to the floor with a wet plop. 

Geralt forces his expression to remain the same when she glances at him and simply reminds her, “You’re out.”

The words seem to bolster her and she heads down the hall, murmuring softly, “He’s gonna make me better, ok baby. He’s gonna take us somewhere safe.” 

Geralt tears his eyes from the blood that’s dripping from her hanging arm, demented breadcrumbs leading back to the start of the twisted tale. A cutting board littered with chopped vegetables, a bowl of lettuce waiting to be finished. Cabinet doors streaked with red rain, a puddle noting where it truly started. A little ways down the counter lays a knife, edge darkened with blood. 

Geralt wants to look away, _needs_ to, but he can’t tear his eyes from the scene before him, is helpless to stop his mind as it tries to make sense of what happened, no catalyst balancing the carnage. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Geralt contains the start that jolts through him, shifting as he slowly turns, putting himself at the beginning of the hall, eyeing the monster before him. 

Geralt’s unanswering glare seems only to anger the newcomer more. “I _said_ who the fuck are you?” 

“None of your concern.” Geralt settles into his stance, knowing the look consuming what he takes to be the woman’s...problem. 

“Knew that bitch was steppin’ out. How long has she been screwing you?” His head tilts, a predatory glint in his eyes as he says, “You know you look an awful lot like Cirilla.” It’s not hard to put the name to the small child, her white blonde hair nearly identical to his own.

Any doubts Geralt had about this man being a monster are laid to rest at these words, no man could look upon their child’s mother, upon their _child_ , and do what he had done. No man could, but monsters did. 

“Istredd.” Geralt catches himself turning towards her, the waver in her voice drawing his attention and it costs him. Istredd uses the distraction to advance on Geralt, closing the short distance between them he takes a swing but the motion draws Geralt's attention back and he dodges the blow, shoving Istredd into the kitchen, chair legs screeching as he stumbles into them. 

Istredd glares, straightening, his mouth twists into a smirk as he looks past Geralt. “When were you–”

“She’s no longer your concern.” Geralt’s words draw Istredd’s attention back, lip twitching towards a snarl.

“You can have the trash, but you’re not taking Cirillia.” Geralt doesn’t believe he has any real desire for the child, he just wants to hurt the woman, knows what means the most to her and will quite possibly kill to take it. 

“She’s not your daughter. No _father_ would do this.” The words incense Istredd, the swing more wild this time, Geralt shoving him back once more, his new leather jacket not yet broken in, the stiffness unfamiliar. Geralt eyes Istredd whose gaze is focused beyond his shoulder, snuffles confirming his suspicion the woman is still standing there. 

“

_Go._ ” Geralt growls the command, glancing over his shoulder, willing the woman to leave, her mouth forming the words, eyes blown wide as he feels it, the sharp bite of a blade, the unnatural feeling as it scrapes against bone. 

“Was she worth it?” Istredd sneers. Geralt doesn’t feel the crack of Istredd’s jaw against his knuckles around the burning in his chest, the shivers that wrack his body _wrongwrongwrong_ as the blade scritches across bone from where it’s stuck. He hears the woman's voice, frantic but far away and that’s all that matters. She was out. 

Out.

Geralt looks down at the knife he’s now intimately familiar with, having moved from its place on the counter, he reaches up, intent to remove it lest he scar Cirilla when a hand catches his, Geralt aborting a punch when he realizes it’s Eskel.

“You were _not_ about to remove the knife from your chest?” Geralt knows the answer, it’s been built into the question but it’s not the truth and so he shrugs, lip twitching when the motion sends a white hot pain through him. 

“You’re _not_ going to remove the knife. An ambulance is on its way, you can leave it for a few minutes.” Eskel eyes it, “It probably won’t kill you.”

“Hhmph.” Geralt huffs but makes no further motion towards the knife. Istredd groans on the ground, stirring and Geralt wonders if police are accompanying the ambulance but before he can ask Lambert’s booming voice sounds.

“Next time _you_ stay with the– _what the fuck_.” Lambert cuts off, getting a look at the scene before him.

“You mind? Renegade here is trying to pull the knife out.” Eskel doesn’t take his eyes from Geralt, knowing the moment he does the knife will be plucked from his chest.

Lambert eyes it as he moves around them, shrugging. “Doesn’t look like it’s in too deep.” Eskel sighs, shaking his head. 

“No. I’m not explaining to the paramedics why you thought it was a good idea to pull a knife out. Not. Again.” 

Geralt doesn’t argue, this is the least he can do considering he didn’t wait for them to show up for the call and besides, he has bigger problems. “Where are they?” Geralt heads for the door, ever step jostling the knife and making his stomach churn, the feeling discomforting. 

Eskel glances at Lambert, casually standing guard over the still groaning Istredd, who nods, he’s fine on his own, they need to find her. Assured Lambert is good to handle Istredd, Eskel turns, surprised to find Geralt just standing in the doorway. 

“You have to go. Find them.” Geralt’s words make Eskel uneasy, he was never one to hang back from a fight, never one to send others ahead, he eyes the knife and never one to complain. “I won’t have her see me like this.” 

It makes sense then, the child who is probably too young to remember any of this years from now, but for today, Geralt won’t traumatize her anymore than she’s already been. 

“I’ll find them.” Eskel promises, stepping into the breezeway, surprised no nosy neighbors are lingering, the sound of yelling and approaching sirens usually acting as a siren’s call. It’s not hard to find the woman, drops of blood leading back the way they’d come, she hadn't made it far, though it was yet to be seen if that was by choice or necessity. Eskel finds her sitting on the bench tucked against the front of the building, strap having slipped from her shoulder it lays right across the ragged wounds in her arm but she seems to not have noticed as she holds her daughter close, murmuring reassurances. 

Lavender eyes flick up, body easing when she sees who it is. “Is he,” She licks her lips and Eskel knows there’s no good way to ask the many questions she needs answers to. How to not sound callous when her most pressing question is how soon they can leave rather than how Geralt’s doing. 

“An ambulance is on its way, you need to get that looked at and then we’ll get you somewhere safe.” The woman nods, the look on her face telling Eskel she would blush if she had the blood to spare. 

“The White Wolf, is he…?” 

Eskel smiles at the moniker. “He’s fine, wanted to pull the knife out but I wouldn’t let him. He’s just down the way, he didn’t want to scare your daughter.” 

The woman nods, turning this information over in her head before slowly admitting. “It’s my fault. If I had gone when he’d told me, Istredd wouldn’t have–”

“No.” Eskel’s sharp denial draws Ciri’s attention, twisting around she takes one look at Eskel, fresh tears welling in her eyes and he realizes too late he should have stayed and sent Lambert out, at least his face didn’t scare children. 

“Mommy, hurts. Why everyone hurts?” Grey eyes turn from him, looking to the woman who blushes, embarrassed as she struggles to keep her daughter from slipping off her lap, unable to swipe away her tears and runny nose. 

“It’s ok, Ciri. He’s not hurt anymore.” She says before turning tired eyes on Eskel. “Sorry. She...doesn’t understand.” 

Eskel smiles, unsure how to voice she may not understand but she’s more compassionate than most adults as grey eyes study him once more, looking doubtful as she whispers, “No hurts?” 

“No hurts.” He assures. She nods, thumb slipping back into her mouth as she leans her head back against her mom, watching him. 

The police and ambulance arriving is a blur of sirens and people and questions with too long answers.

A second bus is called for at the mention of another stab wound, the woman arguing with the paramedics that descend on her, managing to send one of them down the way after informing them he has a knife in his chest. 

“Ma’am can you tell me your name?” A paramedic is crouched before her, wrapping her arm in pressure gauze before he works at getting her vitals. 

“Yennefer Vengerberg.” Ciri refuses to be parted from her mother, the paramedic growing frustrated as he tries to work around her. 

“We’re going to need to take you to the hospital. This needs stitches and it looks like you lost quite a bit of blood so we’ll get you on some fluids to get your levels back up.” Yennefer nods, Eskel can see the adrenaline leaving her body and knows soon Ciri will have to be parted from, if only briefly. 

o~O~o

“Ma’am, I need you to tell me what happened.” Yennefer tears her eyes from the nurse who’s sitting with Ciri back to the officer standing before her. She knows this look, the one that says they don’t expect this to go anywhere, that whatever admittance she lays bare will soon be retracted until the next time they’re called and they do it again. 

“He attacked me with a knife and left.” Yennefer knows how it sounds, how it looks. Ciri is still smeared with her blood, too tired to truly cry anymore silent tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyes never leaving Yennefer even as the nurse gently wipes at her cheeks and hands. 

“Can you name the man who attacked you?” The officer looks up from his notebook, pen poised. 

“Istredd.” Yennefer’s eyes flick to the man in question, grateful he’d been put in a bay across from her, but he was enjoying the scene a little too much, the smirk never leaving his face. 

“You say he did this?” The officer’s eyes flick to her arm, freshly stitched it rests propped on a pillow. “And you _didn’t_ call the police. You called,” He flips through his notebook and shame burns her cheeks once more. They had been through this once before and she’d had to admit she called some stranger she’d met in this emergency room with only the moniker White Wolf to go off. 

“Us.” The surly one snaps. Golden Eyes is in the bay next to hers, his back to her as he sits sideways on the gurney, the knife having been removed he’s waiting on being bandaged.

“So you’re saying that man slit your wrists and left and you called…them?” The implication is clear even without the officer’s doubtful look to the adjacent bay and the sentries guarding the occupant. 

“We’re not the fucking suicide hotline.” The cagey one snaps before Yennefer can form an answer. The officer outwardly bristling at the comment.

“ _Lambert_.” Eskel hisses, Golden Eyes’ turn stopping at the stern voice of a nurse working on bandaging him. Yennefer turns the name over in her head, it’s fitting somehow. 

“Sir, you’re impeding an investigation. According to the owner of the apartment you broke into his house. I’m going to have to take you–” 

The officer’s hand has barely clasped Lambert’s arm when he growls, “Try that again and lose that hand.”

“Problem Sampson?” Yennefer eyes the officer, who had been talking to Istredd, warily. She just want Ciri and to go...not back to their apartment but away.

“I was just suggesting he give an _official_ statement down at the station where he won’t be such an influence.” Golden Eyes’ shoulders straighten, Eskel’s hand on his arm stilling him.

“Surely you’re not suggesting _Captain_ Shaw is unsure in the events that took place.” 

It’s unclear whether it’s the other officer’s tone or the use of Lambert’s rank but Sampson’s lips flatten into a line holding further comment. “You would do well to thank him for his service.” Lambert shifts at the suggestion, glowering. 

“She’s under Witcher protection.” Eskel notes. Both officer’s eyes look to her for confirmation to an agreement she understands nothing about but knows to look away would undermine whatever they’re trying to carefully build. 

“I am.” The words are whisper thin, sounding unsure even to her own ears but it’s enough for the other officer. 

“Alright ma’am, now I understand you’re under Witcher protection, but we need to know if you’d like to press assault charges.” 

Yennefer’s breath catches in her throat. Istredd’s self-assured smirk mocks her, certain she’s going to offer yet another excuse but at Ciri’s broken cry of, “ _Mommy_ ,” she breathes deep. She doesn’t know who or what the Witchers are but it’s a title shouldered by Golden Eyes, it’s security for Ciri. It’s faith.

“I do.” 

o~O~o

“Hungry mommy.” Ciri is once more tucked into her side, having been cleared by the police the nurse had brought her back over, Ciri pressing as close as she could.

“I know, baby. We’ll–” Yennefer swallows hard, she’d been informed the apartment was considered an active crime scene and the police would let her know when she was allowed back in, not that she ever wanted to return. 

“A _text_! He gets stabbed and you send me a _text._ ” A petite redhead in worn jeans and an oversize sweater slows to a stop before Golden Eyes but her focus is on Eskel and Lambert who looks, for the first time, actually nervous.

“He’s fine.” Lambert shrugs.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Yennefer knows the look on the woman’s face all too well, fond exasperation.

“And _you_ ,” She turns on Golden Eyes but the relieved kiss Yennefer expects doesn’t come. “You’re supposed to wait for them.” 

Golden Eyes shrugs, the motion clearly costing him as the new woman’s expression softens. “I called.” 

“Mommy.” Ciri drags out the word, rubbing her eyes and Yennefer knows a tantrum is coming if she doesn’t feed her and get her to bed soon. But that’s the question isn’t it. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next but she knows there’s too many steps, and too much money, between getting Ciri fed and a place to sleep for the night.

“Aren’t you just the most precious thing.” Ciri’s whine had drawn the woman’s attention but she moves no closer than the bounds of Golden Eyes’ space even though the curtain between them is open.

“She’s had a long night.” Yennefer’s tone is apologetic.

“Let me guess. You’ve told her absolutely nothing and arranged even less.” The woman sighs. “Short version for now and I swear _I’ll_ explain everything once you’re settled.” Yennefer nods tiredly, accepting important decisions are going to be made for her, but she’s too worn out to fight any longer.

“I’m Triss.”

“Yennefer. And my daughter Ciri.” Ciri’s whine is accompanied by a squirm that sets Yennefer carefully digging in her purse with her wounded hand, fingers stiff and clumsy as she pulls out a container of baby puffs. They’re probably stale by now but they’ll have to do. Ciri settles with her snack and Yennefer fights the shame that wells up at what they must think.

“The Witchers,” Triss looks askance at the three guys. “Is usually more organized than this. We’ll get you some dinner and a place to sleep and sort the rest tomorrow.” Yennefer doesn’t get the chance to decline before Triss is turning away.

“Apartment?” Eskel nods but Golden Eyes turns his head and argues, “No food, no supplies.” 

“I’d say my place–” Triss starts.

“Somewhere _safe_. We’ve been trying to get _you_ to leave, not add more people.” Golden Eyes grumbles. Ciri offers up a puff to Lambert, Yennefer wincing at her fingers shiny with spit but he doesn’t seem to mind as he accepts the snack. Triss’ expression turns sweetly amused at the gesture. 

“Alright Mr. Bellegarde, keep that dry for the next few days and the stitches should dissolve on their own. This is two visits in two months, at least _try_ not to make it three in three.” The nurse gathers her things, Yennefer notices Golden Eyes doesn’t even try to promise and she wonders if he’s here as often as she is. 

“So we need somewhere with food, a spare room for them to sleep in and that’s safe.” Triss’ grin widens with each requirement she ticks off on her fingers. Eskel and Lambert exchange a look before turning to Golden Eyes as he slowly rises, a caution Yennefer is all too familiar with as he tries not to pull the stitches. 

His posture is stiff as he moves around the side of the bed, his black shirt having been cut up the front hangs open under his leather jacket, a bandage taped too close to his heart covering his own stitches. He circles the gurney, coming to a stop at Triss’ side, clearly not trying to crowd Yennefer but he’s tall and broad shouldered and looks every inch of biker. Until he looks at Ciri, her clothes more crimson than pastel, there’s a flash of anger before his face resets to resting bitch. 

“I believe my house meets those requirements,” Golden Eyes starts, looking at Yennefer, tone dry as he turns to Triss and finishes. “And you’ll insist on being there anyway.” 

“You were stabbed in the chest, you shouldn’t be alone.” Triss argues, Eskel’s eyebrow raising in _She’s not wrong_ solidarity. 

“You can get cleaned up, have dinner and decide what you would like to do next.” Golden Eyes offers. Yennefer knows she needs to respond, but she’d never really thought about how it would go once they were out. It was always a fade to black and pick up somewhere in the future where things were ok and it was just her and Ciri, but the getting there….

“If you’d rather–” He starts and Yennefer realizes she’s let the silence drag on too long, thrown their kindness back in their face.

“I don’t know your name.” His eyebrows raise, surprised. “You got us out, you protected us and if that wasn’t enough you offer...more. And I don’t even know your name.” 

With a soft smile Gold Eyes becomes, “Geralt.” 

o~O~o

Triss had left while they were still working on the discharge paperwork, somehow magnifying that small headstart and managing to arrive at Geralt’s just ten minutes after they did. Yennefer’s still kneeling on the floor before Ciri, trying to convince her to relinquish her blankie so it can be washed and possibly salvaged, though the streaks of blood give Yennefer little hope. 

Triss’ arrival provides a momentary distraction, her arms laden with bags she takes in Yennefer on her knees before a teary Ciri who is hugging her blankie with distrustful eyes. Catching Yennefer’s eye, Triss jerks her head for Yennefer to follow her before disappearing into the kitchen.

Yennefer finds her there, hovering in the archway between Geralt’s kitchen and living room, keeping an eye on Ciri who is still softly sniffling, tiredly rubbing her eyes. Triss rifles through the bags before producing a soft child size throw blanket she holds out to Yennefer.

“I know it’s not the same but maybe just long enough for us to wash hers?” Triss offers apologetically, feeling silly now when it had seemed like such a good idea minutes before in the store. 

It _had_ done the trick along with Yennefer explaining to Ciri that blankie was going to take a bath just like they were and didn’t she want blankie to feel good and clean too? 

Which is how Yennefer finds herself a half hour later, Ciri blinking tiredly from where she’s perched on the bathroom counter, both freshly scrubbed from the shower as she combs out her hair. 

Triss had led them upstairs with a couple of the bags in hand, Ciri perched on Yennefer’s hip as she tried not to stare at the beautiful home around her. Grey hardwood floors and two story windows were just the start, Yennefer certain the view was breathtaking in the light of day. 

“I think I got everything but if you need anything else or something doesn’t fit just let me know.” Triss said over her shoulder as she led Yennefer past two darkened rooms to what Yennefer took to be a guest bathroom. “Take your time, we’ll be downstairs when you’re done and if you’re up for it, some dinner.” With that she’d set the bags on the bathroom counter and headed back down the steps. 

Triss had thought of everything from disposable razors and toothbrushes to a fresh change of clothes for each of them. Little more than a t-shirt and yoga pants for her and a nightgown for Ciri but none of it was covered in blood and for that Yennefer couldn’t be more grateful. 

“How about some dinner and we get you into bed?” Yennefer murmurs, knowing Ciri needs to eat even if she’s barely awake enough to do so. It’s easier to get Ciri on her hip without pulling her stitches from her place on the counter, the hospital had given her pain medicine but the fear that Ciri might try to wake her but unable to do so has kept her from taking them. 

Yennefer eyes the bag of their bloody clothes and the other in which she’d repacked the toiletries they’d used, too tired to think beyond anything other than just leaving them tucked against the wall for now. 

It’s easy enough to find them, Geralt is on the couch, Lambert in the adjacent chair and Triss seems to be drifting between the kitchen and living room. 

“Perfect timing!” Triss says by way of greeting as Yennefer makes her careful way downstairs, limbs heavy as sleep pulls at her. Triss’ announcement draws Lambert’s and Geralt’s attention and she offers what she hopes is more smile than grimace. “Dinner’s ready.” 

The kitchen is as beautiful as the rest of the house, a table that easily seats eight positioned before another wall of windows. Yennefer follows the others, ending up sitting with Ciri on her lap, across from Triss with Gerat between them at the end of the table. Her plate is picked up and passed Triss adding chicken to the brown rice Eskel had put on the plate, Geralt adding a small scoop of what looks to be roasted broccoli.

Once everyone’s plates make it back to them they dig in, Yennefer grateful it’s something Ciri will actually eat as she feeds her small spoonfuls.

“So,” Yennefer starts, attentions drifting towards her. “You guys do this often.” A chorus of contradicting answers ends with grins and laughs from around the table.

“Eating dinner together, yeah, every Sunday. Picking his dumb–” Eskel pauses, glancing to Ciri, “ _self_ up from the ER, not _every_ Sunday but often enough.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt hums but when Yennefer looks he’s smiling softly. Conversation carries itself then, most of it Yennefer doesn’t follow, but it’s more due to her tiredness than the content. As the dishes start being cleared Yennefer sits Ciri in the chair, gathering her setting she takes it to the sink where Eskel is already filling it with hot soapy water.

“You don’t need to do that.” He says when she reaches for the sponge. 

“It’s the _least_ I can do, really.” Eskel nods, seeming to understand.

“How about you dry, pretty sure dish water and stitches don’t mix.” Yennefer smiles her thanks and accepts a dishtowel, glancing at Ciri every few minutes, the blanket Triss had gotten her slipping closer to the floor as she fights to pull it all back up on the chair with her. 

A soft noise of complaint from Ciri draws Yennefer’s attention, turning she finds Ciri on the edge of the chair, arms outstretched towards Geralt, clearly wanting to be held. Before Yennefer can apologize and move to collect Ciri the hesitation on Geralt’s face softens and he lifts her from the chair, face tightening as it pulls his stitches. 

Ciri whines from her place in his lap, carefully balanced with his hand on her back as she tries to pull the blanket up but it’s too heavy for her to gather up completely. Geralt easily pulls it closer for her, wrapping it around her shoulders she settles, her head resting against his chest, contentedly sucking her thumb. 

“She’s a snuggler when she’s tired.” Yennefer explains apologetically as Triss’ quiet, “Awe,” fills the kitchen. Geralt looks to her, unsure, knowing he’s as good as a stranger but Yennefer just smiles and keeps drying dishes.

“I’m guessing you two are sticking around?” Triss asks as they’re finishing up the dishes. Eskel and Lambert nod their assent with half-shrugs as though it’s not a big deal but Yennefer doesn’t miss the concerned looks they give Geralt. A knife a little too close to home for any of them.

“You’ll be in the spare room,” Triss tells Yennefer before turning to Geralt, “Which means you’re stuck with me.” Geralt shrugs which isn’t the reaction Yennefer expected at the prospect of his girlfriend sharing his bed.

“That’s ok, Ciri and I can take the floor.” This earns her several confused looks and she hurries on. “I don’t mean to put you out?” Yennefer winces at how ridiculous this sounds and how she shouldn’t even be saying it, wouldn’t be if she were in her right mind.

“Put me out?” Triss’ brow wrinkles as she follows Yennefer’s gaze to Geralt. “Oh. We’re not…” Triss laughs, gesturing as though to wave away the implication. 

“Oh... _oh._ ” Yennefer’s cheeks burn. Eskel and Lambert’s chuckles poorly contained.

“We…” Triss gives Geralt a measuring look, picking her words carefully. “Grew up together. 

Geralt offers to carry Ciri up to bed, something Yennefer’s grateful for as she’s not sure she could manage it one-armed. The two darkened rooms turn out to be bedrooms, the guest room small with just a dresser, bed and nightstand but little else is needed. 

Geralt eases Ciri onto the bed, gently prying her fingers from where she’s clinging to his shirt before straightening and heading from the room. 

“Thank you.” Yennefer murmurs. 

Geralt pauses at his place in the doorway. “I’m glad you called.” He turns, making it barely two steps before he’s turning back once more. “If you need anything Triss and I are next door.” The same uncertain looks from when he’d first held Ciri is back, as though he doesn’t know how to make himself smaller, doesn’t know how to make himself seem less imposing. 

Yennefer waits until she hears the neighboring door is pressed just to close before quietly shutting theirs, her hand hovering over the handle but in the absence of fear she leaves it unlocked. 

Climbing into bed she pulls Ciri closer, the silence of the unfamiliar house sounding like safety rather than warning. 

o~O~o

“We really should get pamphlets.” Triss notes, refilling Yennefer’s cup with coffee. 

“You say that every time.” Eskel counters and Triss just rolls her eyes.

“Scrambled eggs ok?” Geralt asks from the stove, Yennefer realizing the question is directed at her when no one else answers. 

“Oh sure?” She’s finally able to look at Geralt, Ciri having finished with her drink of orange juice, she replaces the glass on the table and realizes Geralt is asking if Ciri will eat scrambled eggs. “Put cheese in them and you’ll be her favorite person.” 

Geralt nods, turning back to the stove but Yennefer doesn’t miss the small smile her answer drew to his face. Morning had been hectic. Ciri, always up early, stayed true and Yennefer found herself with a squirming toddler barely five hours from when they’d laid down. Yennefer had contained her for as long as she could but it turns out she needn’t have bothered as Triss was waiting at the top of the stairs with a mug of coffee and an offer to carry Ciri downstairs when they stepped from the bathroom. An offer Yennefer desperately needed as her arm had stiffened overnight, a dull throb echoing with every beat of her heart. 

Which is how Yennefer found herself at the kitchen table once more, Eskel and Triss moving around Geralt’s kitchen as though they lived there, Geralt at the stove easily switching between the many skillets he has going. 

“Where were we?” Triss asks, dropping back into her chair, wrapping her hand around her own fresh mug of coffee.

“Pamphlets.” Eskel prompts, watching Ciri drive her car back and forth on the table. She’d been grateful when she’d found them in her purse, she usually carried something to keep Ciri occupied if they had to wait somewhere but it was always a guess what had been in her purse last. 

Yennefer bends down to pick up the other car when it clatters to the floor, again, but the motion costs her, the stretch pulling her stitches and making her throat clench around the sick that rises. 

A gentle hand on her shoulder encourages her back up, Geralt returning to the stove before she can finish thanking him. Turning back she’s met with Eskel’s concerned expression as he sets the dropped car on the table and with a nudge sends it rolling towards Ciri who lets out an excited squeal at finding a playmate.

“You didn’t take your pain meds.” Eskel accuses and the concern makes sense now. “You’re just as stubborn as he is.” 

“I’m fine.” Geralt’ grumbles from behind Yennefer, who is all too happy to let him draw attention. Eskel sighs, but doesn’t take his gaze from Geralt, one Yennefer recognizes, one she uses on Ciri. 

Breakfast is served much the same way as dinner, Yennefer’s plate is plucked from its place before her, passed around the table before it’s returned filled with food. It’s more of a struggle however to feed Ciri who is used to having her own plate and utensils and is quick to grab Yennefer’s whenever she sets it down to get a drink or even take it from her.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about tiny dishes for her last night.” Triss apologizes, tone regretful as she watches Yennefer relinquish the spoon to Ciri who struggles to get egg onto it.

“Are you kidding? You got us more than enough last night, I expected to be spending the night in those clothes.” Yennefer forces herself to continue over the awkward shifting her words elicit. “I didn’t think to ask last night and I should have and I’m sorry. What do I owe you.” 

If she thought the mention of sleeping in bloody clothes was bad it’s nothing compared to the silence this question brings. For the first time Geralt looks almost annoyed as he carefully sets his fork down, giving a meaningful look to Triss who seems to sober under it.

Golden eyes fix on her, “Everything from the Witchers is freely given.” 

Yennefer _knows_ this is supposed to mean something but the confusion must show on her face because Geralt suddenly looks more tired, looks every bit of hurt that he should have last night in the emergency room. 

“The Witchers are...we get people out of bad situations and help them start over.” Triss bites her lip, trying to decide what to say next. 

“The police, they knew you,” Yennefer says, looking from one to the other before setting back on Triss. “They’re...part of the Witchers?” 

“Not exactly.” Triss draws out the words, eyes darting to Lambert who’s stony expression gives nothing away. “They are _aware_ of us and most of them respect the work we do, but some…” Triss shrugs. Yennefer hasn’t forgotten Officer Sampson or the way he treated Lambert. 

“I appreciate you helping us, I...I don’t know what would have happened to Ciri.” At the sound of her name Ciri snaps her head back, nearly cracking it against Yennefer’s jaw as she looks up at her. “If you can give us a ride back to town we won’t impose any longer.” 

There’s a shifting at the table, she would swear Geralt looks almost hurt as he says, “You don’t have to go.” 

Triss is still studying Geralt as she starts, “What he means is, when we say we help people start over we mean you don’t have to go back at all if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do this on your own. We have lawyers who will help if you want to press charges and get custody of Ciri. We’ll get you a new place to live.”

“A new life.” Yennefer murmurs, tears welling in her eyes. This is what she wanted, what she dreamed about, what they _needed_ and yet–

“You don’t have to decide now. You’re not imposing, just think about it. Please.” Geralt implores and Yennefer nods, swiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. Breakfast finishes quietly after that, Yennefer being shooed with Ciri out of the kitchen saying she did dishes last night. 

Yennefer doesn’t have it in her to argue, her mind too full with thoughts of what could be, if she’s making the wrong decision once more and how many times does she have left until they deem her unfit? 

It’s a struggle but Yennefer gets Ciri upstairs, grateful once again to Triss who had gotten them each a change of clothes, simple jeans and a t-shirt for her and a little navy blue dress covered in stars for Ciri. Teeth and hair brushed Yennefer rests Ciri on her hip with her unstitched arm, debating just half a pain pill but decisions need to be made and she knows she can’t think through a drugged haze. 

Yennefer carefully makes her way down the stairs, wincing when setting Ciri down pulls her stitches. “Mommy?” Ciri’s grey eyes have seen far too much for her years in just the past day alone.

“I’m fine baby. Why don’t we go find your cars and you can play.” Ciri brightens at the mention of playing. The cars retrieved from the kitchen table finds Ciri all too happy to drive them around Geralt’s living room, the space holding her attention in its unfamiliarity. 

Yennefer watches from her place by the tall windows, too anxious to sit and wanting to be ready to stop Ciri should she get into the many books Geralt has lining his shelves. Geralt approaches, a familiar blanket in his hands, looking almost comical in its pastel softness against his heavy boots and black shirt and jeans. 

“You’re going to be her hero.” Yennefer’s smile tightens, “You already are, she’ll just actually understand this. Ciri.” At the sound of her name she looks towards her mom, eyes quickly spying her security blanket.

“Bankie!” Cars abandoned where they sit, Ciri is quick across the room, taking it from Geralt she hugs it close. Dancing off she spins with it in her arms, happy little stomps and twirls that make both Yennefer and Geralt smile. 

“Not all parents protect their children the way they need to be, the way you did.” Geralt keeps his voice low, eyes on Ciri. 

“I didn’t. I waited.” Yennefer argues, her smile faltering. The possibility of something that never came to pass but would haunt her for the rest of her days.

“He never laid a hand on her.” Geralt notes, Yennefer’s head snapping towards him at his knowing tone, brow wrinkling as she starts to ask how he knows but he tears his gaze from Ciri to her and she sees it then, the understanding. She turns back to Ciri with tears in her eyes, knowing she couldn’t do this on her own no matter how much she wanted to. 

“She deserves a new life.” Yennefer admits, turning to Geralt.

“You both do.” 

o~O~o

“You know there are child labor laws.” At Lambert’s teasing Geralt turns, finding him leaning against the door frame to the storage room, Ciri waving from her place on his hip, her blankie secure in her hand.

“She cries when she’s not held.” Lambert’s smile twists to the side, “And inventory needs to be done.” 

“Sure.” Lambert shrugs. “Inventory.” Though he knew exactly how much of a cuddler Ciri was, having watched her while Geralt put the orders in for the week. 

“Tory.” Ciri says, nodding seriously, Lambert unable to maintain his usual scowl. 

Triss was out front training Yennefer, she wasn’t ready to tend bar yet but she was picking up waiting tables quickly. Ciri spent most of her days in the office with Geralt, Yennefer not comfortable with leaving her with a stranger, she’d been a stay at home mom since Ciri was born and Geralt didn’t blame her for her fear. Ciri was happy enough to play on the floor of his office, a blanket laid down, her toys surrounding her, but the same technique didn’t work when Geralt took her to the stockroom to do inventory. 

“When you said you were going to help–” Triss’ voice precedes her, Lambert shifting so she can step past him but her words trail off when she spots Geralt.

Ciri waves and happily announces, “Tory!” Triss laughs, which only encourages Ciri more who happily shares her new word. 

“Sorry to pull you away but thought you guys might want some lunch before her nap.” Triss comments.

Nap times were becoming more and more crucial as Ciri’s anxiety manifested as nightmares, though she wasn’t the only one suffering from them. 

The first night Ciri had a nightmare Yennefer had done her best to quiet her, hoping she wouldn’t wake Geralt as well. A knock had come at the door all the same, a nervous Geralt waited on the other side with a cup of warmed milk. It had done the trick to settle Ciri and get her back to sleep. But as the nights passed and the day drew nearer they would move into one of the apartments the Witchers kept Yennefer's own nightmares started.

The thought of being alone made her breath catch and she’d wake covered in a cold sweat, that evening in the kitchen with Istredd playing again, only this time she never made the call and Geralt never came. On those nights she’d creep from bed, careful not to wake Ciri and sit with her back pressed against the railing, trying to remember they were out.

Which is how Geralt found her the night Istredd was released, their court date weeks away. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Yennefer whispers as she swipes at her eyes. Geralt barely blinked at her huddled form before sitting next to her, leaving space between them. 

“I’m scared.” Yennefer admitted, never taking her eyes from the darkened bedroom where Ciri slept. 

“He won’t touch you, either of you, ever again.” Geralt vowed. And from that night there were no further mentions of the safe apartment, no talks of getting her settled anywhere alone.

“I hungry.” Ciri declares at the mention of lunch as Lambert and Geralt follow Triss from the storeroom back into the bar.

“C’mon, lunch time.” Triss calls as they step from the back, Yennefer looking up from where she’s wiping down the counter. Though she’d never worked as a server, much less a bartender, it was an income and as Geralt reassured her it didn’t have to be permanent.

“Mommy!” Ciri calls as soon as she spots Yennefer, opening and closing her tiny hand in a wave. Yennefer smiles and gives Geralt yet another grateful smile. He’d offered to watch her, to keep her close in the office, understanding she wasn’t ready to trust a stranger to watch her, for Istredd to happen upon her. 

Esekl has the booster seat already at the table and Geralt easily fits Ciri into it before following Lambert who had already ducked into the kitchen to get their food. Geralt and Lambert reappear, bearing trays of lunch while Triss is still reassuring Yennefer it’s fine, encouraged really, to sit and eat lunch with them. Even after several weeks she was still unused to the familiarity they treated her with.

“Pama!” Ciri announces spying Geralt. 

“What?” Yennefer asks Ciri, smoothing her hair back. 

Ciri grins, bouncing in her seat as she happily announces, “Pama, Pama!” All while staring at Geralt. Yennefer looks to him, wondering if he knows what Ciri’s trying to say.

“What did you teach her?” Triss sighs, knowing the look Lambert’s wearing usually suggests nothing good. 

Lambert’s shit eating grin growing as he informs them, “Thought the cub should show respect for her pack master.” 

o~O~o

“You know she’s not going to know the difference.” Lambert grumbles from his place on the ladder, giving a flat look to Triss who’s balancing on her own ladder, carefully filling in the constellations she’d sketched on the ceiling of Ciri’s room.

“She will when she’s older. And besides, it will look better this way.” Triss counters. Lambert rolls his eyes but returns to carefully following the faint pencil marks, knowing she’s right but hating the detailed work all the same. 

It had already been a long day, the call had gone out and though there was serious doubt Istredd would be foolish enough to show, the Witchers had backup when they went to Yennefer’s apartment for the final time. There wasn’t much she wanted, the house she would be sharing with Triss could be filled with her furniture, leaving Yennefer to pack the few belongings she wanted and Ciri’s things. 

Ciri had been excited when presented with the spectrum of paint swatches and told to pick any color she wanted for her room, a decision that wasn’t as arduous as they expected. Her walls were a grayish-blue called Ocean Smoke, the ceiling a deeper blue to mimic the night sky so her stars would stand out. 

“You guys about done? The pizza will be here any minute and there’s something you’ll want to see.” Eskel asks, leaning in the doorway. 

“Think this the last of them.” Triss says, scanning the ceiling for any they’ve missed but finding none they descend their ladders and follow Eskel down the hall and back into the living room. It’s easy enough to spot what Eskel said they’d want to see. 

Geralt is stretched out on the couch, one arm bent behind his head as a pillow while the other holds Ciri in place on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. The wolf stuffed animal he’d given her as a reminder he was always watching over her tucked under her arm, sound asleep on her Pama. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed Yenn's backstory.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to hear what you think! 
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow!


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